


The Other Side of The Door

by Robot_Qwerty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Child Abuse, Mentor Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2019-11-02 02:18:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17879231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robot_Qwerty/pseuds/Robot_Qwerty
Summary: Altair is just trying to survive. His attempts at escape are thwarted at every turn even as he tries to hide in plain sight. When he meets a famous and lonely little boy, things get a whole lot more complicated.





	1. A Family Schism

              The summer weather that year could have been described as ridiculous. A steady plod of irrepressibly hot days had comprised the majority of the season and caused drought in several places. England had not been given any reprieve until late August, when all of that hoarded moisture had come into play, meaning that it was practically a torrent now.

Quite a few of the old manor houses owned by the Lords and Lady’s of the magical world had very convenient cooling and air circulation charms constantly working to banish the heat. Unfortunately, the same was not true for any other buildings not meant to shelter either the family or any kept animals.

This was especially true at the main family manor of the Noble House of Corvus. The main manor had rather obviously seen better days, as the brick was looking weather worn and turning a rather uninteresting brown color. The windows were mostly clean and the climbing ivy was very dead due to the unfortunate weather. Inside the house, however, a Mrs. Eveline Corvus nee Rowle was having a simply lovely cup of tea, accompanied by a merrily crackling fire to combat this new, chillier, atmospheric development. The man of the house, Mr. Rothbert Corvus, along with his pride and joy, Calistan Corvus, were out for the day trying to negotiate a loan with the goblins.

A loan was considered rather unseemly for a noble family, and making deals with the goblins about money was never a good idea unless you knew you could pay them back. Unfortunately for Mr and Mrs Corvus, they were not directly in line for the titles gained by the head of family, and therefore had run through their rather pitiful (in their mind) inheritance. This meant that their ire was directed towards the heir of the noble house of Corvus, whom was, rather conveniently, their nephew, Altair Antony Corvus.

Rothbert’s brother, Antony, had died two years after his wife passed away from a deadly illness in the form of Dragon Pox, and taken his eldest child with him. Antony had been very aware of his brothers rather unscrupulous morals and lackadaisical attitude toward his responsibilities. Tied together with the avarice and greed Rothbert had been known to exhibit, the Lord of the House of Corvus had seen fit to make sure no one but his direct heir could touch the family fortunes.

When Antony and his daughter, Jasmine, had been killed, so had the intended guardians written into the wills of both Antony, and Elise, his wife. Due to the fact that both parents had failed to claim any other alternative guardians, the last remaining child, Altair, had been put into the care of a very jealous and angry brother whose inheritance was nothing like what he thought he deserved.

Therefore, it was really no large surprise that after living with his uncle for two years after he had turned ten, that his dear relatives would finally snap and move him out of the main house altogether. The side building where Altair Corvus was currently residing had been meant as something of a guest wing first built separately from the manor, which would later be incorporated into the main building. The resultant structure looked like a small cabin next to the decaying grandeur of the manor. There was a toilet but no bath, which had only been sectioned off by a half-wall since the construction was halted so suddenly. The main part of the one-story building was covered in dust, boxes, and random construction materials. This little area was supposed to house all of the materials so that they wouldn’t be damaged whilst waiting to be used.

Rain flowed down the window in rivulets, while an irregular rhythm of water hitting the ground and glass created a soothing melody. The room inside the little cabin was absolutely silent besides the symphony of nature outside. The room was, in fact, occupied by a boy whom was considered rather typical leaning towards unremarkable. He had curly brown hair cropped short, hazel eyes covered by blue framed glasses, and a somewhat angular, long face. At the moment, he was sitting on a makeshift bed comprised of an old twin mattress on the floor with a scratchy wool blanket covering it.

The boy was thirteen years old and about to enter his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Altair had gone through the summer retreating into the trees surrounding the property to escape the indescribable heat that was created in the stuffy little building. His homework had been completed within the first month of vacation, as was typical of most Ravenclaws.

Altair had been both relieved and horrified at being relegated to the ‘cabin’ when he had returned with his cousin after second year. When his mother, father and sister had first died and he was sent to live with his uncle, his family had made it very clear that while they would care for him as required, they had absolutely no intention of loving or truly caring for him. The year that his letter had come, there had been an even more noticeable coolness between his last remaining family and himself. Upon returning to his conquered childhood home after the year was over, with an extremely noticeable difference between Calistan and Altair’s intelligence and abilities, his uncle had decided to start ‘teaching’ him how to behave. Since it was well known that Altair was the Heir, his uncle took it upon himself to ‘educate’ his nephew properly.

Second year, Altair had made sure that the work he turned in was simple, but good enough for decent marks. However, that didn’t change the fact that he still far outstripped his cousin in terms of ability, not to mention Calistan’s abysmal school work. Returning home had been filled with hopeful trepidation, and then Altair had been forced listened to his uncle Rothbert rant and rave about his nephew’s disrespectful behavior and awful personality. The lessons with his uncle had become harsher.

Third year had brought much the same as the year before, with enough tweaking in his public abilities that his cousin wasn’t quite as much of a disappointment as before. That had meant that his uncle had thrown him out with the ‘trash’ where he belonged, along with an admonishment about how heirs were supposed to act, fewer but much worse lessons, and sweet reprieves from the hostile atmosphere of the main house.

Altair knew that the only reason his uncle hadn’t arranged for some sort of accident or outright murdered him yet was due to the protections set into place by his father. Altair had learned the hard way that avoidance, distraction, and misdirection were the best tools at his disposal when it came to his family and the wizarding world at large. The hat had wanted to place him in Slytherin, but Altair had persuaded the powerful relic to put him into the house that Calistan fit in with the least. Then he slowly adapted his education to reflect what he wanted others to see whilst studying and researching himself into the ground in secret. Hiding his scarred, underweight body by creating talismans with runes that would create glamour’s that were very difficult to identify or disrupt.

The young heir was biding his time and making sure that when he finally reached his majority, he would be untouchable. His uncle tried to cow and intimidate him so that when Altair finally reached the age of majority, 17, Rothbert would take the title and all of the power, wealth, and prestige the Lord of the Noble House of Corvus was granted.

At this moment, however, instead of plotting, studying, or practicing within the once impenetrable wards which would mask his magical signature, Altair was staring at his old house. The main house was where his mother, father, big sister, and himself had lived. His childhood had been wonderful. Admittedly, his father had been rather absent from his life, but his mother and sister had been his support. He had loved his mother dearly, and his sister had been his best friend. When their mother had passed away, his father became very stressed and burdened. From what he had gathered, his father was clashing with someone in the Wizengamot, and they were quite powerful. Antony Corvus’ seat had been gained through money and money alone. His father had made the house what it was today and Antony had used that influence wisely once it was passed to him. Then, the night of the attack had come. Altair and his family had been visiting his and his sister’s godparents, two muggleborns, that his parents had been close to. When they were returning home, the wards that surrounded the modest home and parcel of land had collapsed. In a panic, Antony had pushed the closest child, Altair, through the floo and back home before the fireplace had collapsed.

A hysterical house elf was then sent to the Auror department in order to save the family of the terrified Altair. Once the Auror’s had reached the residence of Mr and Mrs Richardson, however, there had not been a single survivor. The incident was blamed on the Dark Lord Voldemort, but not only had the Dark Mark been absent from the scene, but no one could figure out why he would want to attack a respectable and powerful neutral family, just to get to some muggleborns.

Altair always felt twinges of pain in his chest whenever he saw his childhood home from the grubby windows of his summer prison. He could not help but feel that his uncle and his family had irreparably damaged the atmosphere of the family manse. What was once warm and welcoming had become sharp and oppressing. Even if his plans succeeded, Altair doubted that he could ever see this place as home again. The memories that had once given him nothing but grief and constant reminders of all that he had lost, became detached from his family’s manor. Any comfort he might have drawn from his memories of family had become the horrors of what his situation was now. His most precious possessions were reduced to what he could scrounge of memento’s and photos behind his uncle’s back, locked in a box and buried in his school trunk. Anything else had to be fought and reasoned for with tooth and nail in order to continue his education.

For the last month, Altair had been getting a strong feeling of change in the air. This was something that all of those with Corvus blood were gifted with. Some received it stronger than others, and Altair was one of them. He sensed when some big change in his life was coming. The last time this had happened was the week before he had gotten back from Hogwarts and his uncle had thrown him into the out-building. Altair just fervently hoped that this upcoming change wouldn’t hurt too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just an intro, we'll get to Harr-Bear soon enough ;)


	2. Another One?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Altair finds himself on the Hogwarts Express returning for his fourth year. Who is that boy and what on earth is going on?

           Altair was aware that for a supposedly pure-blood wizard, going through the muggle entrance in order to reach platform 9 ¾ was highly irregular. As his uncle liked to say when he was in hearing distance, ‘ _It’s a disgrace for a pure-blood to tread the same path as a mudblood, Calistan’_ , every single time they left for the Hogwarts Express. Then he would order a house elf to take him to the outside of King’s Cross to find his way in by himself. If Altair was to guess, he would say that his Uncle Rothbert was hoping he would miss the train and be expelled. After all, it wasn’t as though a pure-blood would have a reason to miss it when they flooed, or apparated, directly onto the platform. Altair found that he did not particularly mind going through the train station with the muggles like his Uncle wanted him to. Wandering around the muggle town and rural areas around the family manse was something that had become something of a pastime for Altair when he had the chance. Muggle’s didn’t know nor care who or what he was as long as he wasn’t different or noticeable. Therefore, the now fourteen-year-old boy was easily walking through a crowd of muggles in a pair of dark jeans, a button-down dark blue shirt, and a dark grey sweater. He had shrunk his school supplies before he left and was carrying them in his pocket, so he simply looked like a stray teenager walking through the station.

           Pausing for a moment, Altair simply stood, leaning against a railing and watched the people walk by. He silently picked out the muggleborns and their families making their way to the platform and felt a pang in his chest. There wasn’t much Altair wouldn’t give in order to have a real family again.

           Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, Altair was about to make his way to the main platform when he saw something very much out of the ordinary making their way across the little bridge. There was a small boy, struggling to push a burdensome luggage trolley with a beautiful, and rather irritated, snowy owl in a cage perched on top. This was not normally cause for any sort of scene, but the very large man, horse-like woman, and very large boy moving through the now less busy bridge with him, pushed the tableau into puzzling on the verge of concerning. The man and boy had nasty, smug sort of smirks that reminded him far too much of his uncle, with the woman looking as though she smelled something nasty. The man said something with a snide sneer on his lips to the little boy, and said boy looked despondently at the numbers lining the columns in the middle of the main platform. Then, just like that, laughing nastily, they left the lone boy just standing in the middle of the bridge, looking on the verge of angry, scared tears.

           Altair knew himself to be a selfish being, he liked to do things for himself, he preferred to keep to himself and not bother to try and keep up with being social – he was quite the confirmed introvert. However, he also didn’t like to stand to the side and allow things to slide by to the wayside, whether it was common courtesy or responding to a genuine plea for help, he would do it simply because he could. Looking at the now abandoned child, he noticed just how skinny the kid was, unhealthily so. He was looking at the ticket in his hand with a trepidation that he was all too familiar with.

           Altair wasn’t even aware of moving, he was suddenly just standing next to the child with a raised eyebrow, asking, “I take it you’re looking for the platform 9 ¾?”

           The boy was very startled by his sudden appearance, and Altair noticed that he looked an amusing mixture of relieved and wary. His only reply was a short and frantic nodding.

           Altair dipped his head in affirmation, and instead of offering to show the way or trying to be a condescending prat, he said, “Follow me,” and began to make his way through the commuters with one hand on the trolley of his newest little shadow.

           The smaller boy didn’t seem to know what to say, which was fine with Altair, as he was rather lost on words as well. Normally he would have been much more polite, or explained a few things, but he was feeling far too many conflicting emotions to even try at the moment.

           When they reached the gap between the last two pillars of platform 9, Altair finally spoke. “You can think of the number 9 and ¾ in a very literal sense,” he began, making the boys head snap back to look at him, “Always go for the space between the last two columns of platform nine, right here," he pointed to the brick work they were facing, "The column is very real for muggles, but for magical people it is a barrier to the platform. All you do is walk through it when you are relatively sure no one is watching or in the way. You can take it at a run if you want, but I find that to be rather disorienting. Just follow behind me?”

           The last was asked as more of a question than an instruction, and the boy once again nodded.

           Walking at a decent clip after waiting long enough to be prudent, both boys walked into the wall and found themselves staring at another, much different platform. The bright scarlet steam engine waiting for the students of Hogwarts stood silent and splendid in the mid-morning sun. The platform that should not logically exist was buzzing with chattering people and squawking pets.

           Altair turned to look at the boy he had helped and noted, “You don’t have to transport your owl like that, you know. Any magical owl would be able to find the castle on their own. So, if you want you can let your owl out their cage and just tell them the full name of the castle, they’ll find it.” After a moment’s consideration, he added, “Also, I’m just going to…” tapping on the top of the steamer trunk that was a pretty standard and cheap model with his wand, he informed the now frozen boy, “A featherlight charm, it’ll be easier to get it on the train.”

          With that said, Altair turned on his heel and left to find an empty compartment. Considering that it was still fairly early on in the day, the train wouldn’t be leaving for an hour, so finding an empty compartment was fairly easy. Normally Altair would have gotten in a lot of trouble for performing that charm on the trunk, but as he was on a magical platform surrounded by magical people, no one would trace it back to him. With that in mind, Altair took his trunk out of his pocket and waved his wand over the small wooden box. The trunk expanded to its usual size, then he rapidly slipped his school robes on and quickly maneuvered it onto the rack above the seats. His trunk was the one that his father had used during his schooling days. Normally that would have meant that it was a tattered, beaten up mess, but Altair had repaired and fixed it into its former glory. Stained black wood was varnished to a glossy shine, silver lettering that spelled out the initials A.C.C. stood out on the lid, blue hued metal, hard leather, steel edging, and black brackets combined to make a handsome and sturdy trunk.

          The attic of The Corvus manor was filled with forgotten treasures and was only accessible to those with Corvus blood. Not even the house elves could get up into the attic, one might call it a sacred space. His family had never bothered to go up there, so Altair had made it into a safe haven by meticulously changing the runes guarding the space to only allow him to enter. It had taken a few very close calls and nasty shocks, but it had been worth it. The attic had become the only place within those walls that he felt safe.

           The trunk had been a treasure that he safe-guarded and hid from greedy, destructive hands. Allowing pleasant memories of stolen moments and gleeful exploration take over his mind, Altair almost didn’t notice when a hesitant knock sounded on the closed door. Looking up, Altair saw the small black-headed boy he had helped onto the platform standing outside his compartment. Standing up, he opened the door with a brow raised in question.

           The boy had a shy, yet calculating look on his face when he asked, “Do you mind if I sit in here with you?”

 _More and more intriguing by the minute,_ Altair thought to himself with a small head tilt. Moving back, Altair swept his hand into the compartment in invitation. He noted with some amusement that the owl cage that had accompanied the boy was now empty.

           After helping the small boy with his trunk, both boys sat and stared at each other for a while when Altair decided that he should really introduce himself to the smaller.

           Nodding his head in the correct etiquette whilst holding up his hand to shake the others, he said, “Altair Corvus, Heir to the Noble house of Corvus.”

           The other boy only hesitated a moment before grasping his with a very small hand, “Harry Potter.”

           Altair recognized the name immediately, but also felt a frown of confusion spread over his face. Why wasn’t the Potter Heir introducing himself properly? He was fairly certain that Potter was also looking as confused as he was.

           Deciding that the mutual confusion was enough leeway that he could get away with such an intrusive question, Altair asked, “Are you not the Heir to the house of Potter?”

           Potter’s face scrunched into a mirroring frown and said, “No… what do you mean, house of Potter?”

           Altair froze as shock and incredulous surprise was ruthlessly suppressed behind fairly good occlumency shields. Clearing his throat, Altair informed Potter that, “The family that you come from in the wizarding world is considered an Ancient and Noble house. Well, not really noble anymore, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are set to inherit the name and estate when you are old enough.”

           Potter then did something that thoroughly surprised the Corvus heir, he visibly grew confused and upset, and then shut down any and all emotion.

           The two heirs stared at each other for a long, drawn out moment, when Altair made a decision and moved to lock the compartment door. Taking out his wand, he warded the door against notice and then began to talk. There was obviously something very wrong and Altair would be damned if he let this ridiculous situation continue.


	3. Planning of the Highest Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a difficult chapter to plan, I had several different scenarios that I was considering for the train ride. So here is the one that won out, hope you enjoy.

       The train car that Altair found himself sitting in was utterly silent for a few moments until he finally decided on a course of action. The calculation he had seen in Potter's eyes had given him an idea of how their initial interaction would go. However, he also knew from the reactions of his family and Potter himself, that it was more than likely that the kid had been raised thoroughly muggle.

       For a moment more, Altair found himself hesitating. Was it really worth it to try and help this kid? Logically, it would be a boon to help someone famous, but technically, no one understood how that came about (and Altair was fairly skeptical about a baby defeating a psychotic wizard, I mean, seriously). Then, of course, there was the obvious factor of Potter being more like a muggle-born than anything.

        _Wait,_ a sudden, lurching thought came over Altair's thought process,  _that doesn't make any sense. Whichever professor was there to explain all of this to Potter would have told him how to get onto the platform, wouldn't they? Why was Potter with a family that so obviously thought so little of him? There were hundreds of witches and wizards whom would have been delighted to take in The-Boy-Who-Lived..._

       That last thought cinched the idea for Altair, he decided that he needed to know what was going on. He was aware of some of the amount of meddling that the Headmaster was capable of when it came to students, as he had been a recipient of that. However, this seemed odd in the extreme. However, it was the way that the little boy sitting on the bench in front of him presented himself that really caught Altair's attention. This boy reminded Altair of himself so strongly that he wanted to scream, and he would be damned before he allowed Potter to enter Hogwarts without at least some idea of what may await him.

      "How about I make you a deal, Potter?" The question was asked after such a thick silence that he saw Potter flinch slightly, thank The Lady he hadn't spoken in a loud voice.

       ****Switch to Harry's P.O.V.****

       Harry was startled from his staring when the older boy spoke again. He didn't really know what to think of Altair Corvus except that he seemed really odd and yet very distant. He had helped Harry find the platform without any sort of coddling, and even told him about Hedwig not having to stay trapped inside her cage, then made his trunk so easy to lift. However, he was also completely ignored beyond that. Thus far, especially after what had happened with all of those scary adults in the Leaky Cauldron, he had seen the way people looked at him and stared. Harry knew logically that he was something of a celebrity, but it ate at him with it's falseness. 

       Now Corvus sat in front of him, looking at him in a way that no one had ever looked at him. When Harry was with the Dursleys (he couldn't refer to them as his family anymore) he was a horrible freak and a hooligan, when he was in the wizarding world, Harry was a famous boy famous for something that seemed rather impossible. Right now, however, Harry was just a clueless boy in front of an older student. That did make him uncomfortable, but for reasons that were actually true.

       Nodding in reply, afraid that he would offend the other, Harry waited to hear what 'deal' such a strange person was going to offer.

       "I want to know what happened when the representative of Hogwarts came to tell you about magic, and I mean every detail," Corvus started, and the request seemed very odd. He was sure that it would be far more invasive than that, and it made Harry even more curious about what he would be getting out of this deal. "In exchange," Corvus continued, "I'll tell you what I think of it, and start to explain some things about magical Britain that you should know."

       Harry processed the words, in silence, not really knowing what to think. This was rather confusing, and he didn't know what to choose. However, first things first, "What do you mean, 'What I should know'?" 

       A small smile that gleamed with something that looked like pride or respect flitted across Corvus' face for a moment and Harry felt a little prick of warmth in his chest before the older boy clarified, "Just a few things on culture, etiquette, and maybe a few things for school. Especially introducing oneself, you don't want to insult someone without realizing."

       Harry couldn't hold the blush making it's way across his cheeks, he knew that the other boy was referencing his blunder in introducing himself. Corvus caught the look and brushed it off, "You can't greet someone properly if you've never been taught Potter, that isn't your fault."

       Instantly Harry was relieved and alert; he knew that this could help him quite a bit. Hagrid hadn't left him alone long enough to get anything that would help him actually get used to the wizarding world without help. All he had been able to swing were the things that he needed for school. Trying to suppress his excitement (it had been a long time since he had to suppress anything other than negative emotions after all), he asked one last thing, "Why do you want to know about my introduction to magic?"

       The smirk that settled on Corvus' face had Harry both wary and curious, "Those reasons are my own... for now," Corvus responded, and then asked, "So? What do you say?"

       Just as Harry nodded and said, "Deal." Both boys were distracted by a loud family of redheads rushing onto the platform, looking frantic. When Harry looked at the older boy in question, he noted the look of confusion on the other's face, "The train is set to leave in a minute."

       The absent reply told Harry that there was more to it, but had the distinct feeling that Corvus wasn't going to share without a good reason. The more Harry spent around Corvus, even after less than a hour's acquaintance, he could tell that sticking around the other would be a good idea. The boys watched as four of the redheads, all males, detached from the main group and dashed onto the train. They managed to make it right before the first lurch of the wheels started, although the youngest boy had difficulty getting on. 

       "Alright then, Potter," Corvus started, making Harry once again curse his flinching. Harry had the uncomfortable thought that Corvus knew exactly why he was flinching, but said nothing about it. "You start, tell me what happened."

       So Harry explained about his family's reactions to the mail, which ended with them on a small island in a shack, which got a raised eyebrow but nothing else. Then he went on to explain Hagrid's appearance and subsequent reactions, which he was still furious about as it had gotten him a lot of pain once he returned to the Dursley's. Corvus had frowned at that, but still said nothing. Harry told his all about his trip to Diagon, with the older boy asking for clarification or more details at a few points. Then, the story ended when Hagrid dropped Harry off at the tube to wait for a train home.

       Corvus simply sat scowling for a few minutes before his face suddenly went blank and he began to speak in a slow, measured tone of voice. "There are quite a few things about your experience that strike me as odd, bordering on ridiculous," he held up a hand when Harry went to respond. "I realize that your situation is somewhat unique in that your position in our world is rather...complicated. However, there are certain protocols for how muggleborn witches and wizards are supposed to be introduced to the wizarding world that are completely absent from your story, Potter."

       ****Switch back to Altair's P.O.V.****

       Altair was finding himself feeling more anxious and resolved the further into conversation he was pulled with Potter. The kid in front of him could change the entire landscape of Hogwarts without so much as lifting a finger. Now that he was offering a sort of relationship of information exchange, his own standing was going to be quite rocky if anyone found out. Sure, Altair is known for offering help to anyone in the younger years from any house, regardless of whom asks. He kept himself isolated from almost anyone else and was quite happy with that. However, being known as a mentor, confidant, or whatever, for Harry Potter was going to put him in the spotlight without so much as a by-your-leave. 

        Then again, watching the emotions and reactions thus far from Potter, Altair couldn't help but feel a sort of indignation and stubborn protectiveness over the too-small eleven year old in front of him. 

       Sighing to himself when Potter nodded for him to continue, Altair resigned himself to figuring out changing battle lines later. Right now, there was a puzzle to consider. 

       Coughing to clear his throat, Altair began to lay out what was bothering him about Potter's story, which was a lot, "First of all, any muggleborn student - which you would be considered as such, especially since someone had to deliver your letter personally - should be met with by either a professor, the deputy or head of the school, or a member of the Boards of Governors for said school. Not only is Hagrid not a professor, but from what I understand, Hagrid never even finished his education... in fact, what Hagrid did could be considered muggle bating, which is illegal." Harry looked rather miffed about the pigs tail incident, and Altair couldn't blame him. Even if he didn't know anything about what the consequences of the pig tail were beyond Potter's cousin have to get the appendage surgically removed, the state of his muggle clothing (read: rags) gave him a bad feeling.

       "Second, it is not a good thing that Hagrid kept your vault key. Heirs are supposed to receive the key to their own heir vaults at the age of eleven so that they can learn to manage money; which would also explain why the goblins were so cranky. Goblins are very serious about money, and what Hagrid did is unheard of. Not only that, but only your magical gaurdian should have had your key in the first place," the look of confusion on Potter's face gave Altair a leaden feeling in his stomach. Determined that he could address this after he continued and tried to keep the seething anger out of his voice.

       "Third, any professor should have explained several things to you, including the train platform, which I will explain to you in a bit. Hagrid going on about Slytherin like that is considered unnecessary bias which is unethical as students choose their houses based on personality, not good and evil," Altair couldn't help the eye-roll at remembering all of the ridiculous things that Hagrid had said about Slytherin. He was finished for now, as anything else would be supposition or would seem far too biased. So he waited for the young boy  to process his words.

        A cough had Altair looking at Potter in question. A blush forming on gaunt-looking cheeks, Harry asked, "So, what things were true?"

       Altair considered the question for a moment before feeling a smile trying to quirk at the corners of his mouth. Potter was smart, he had to give him that. "Well, it is true that You-Know-Who was in Slytherin, or at least, that was the rumor. This held credence because of the rumor that he was the Heir of Slytherin, which was supported by the fact that he could speak parsletongue: which is the word used to decribe people whom can speak the language of snakes, which is called parslemouth." Altair clarified at Potter's questioning look. When Potter paled, however, before his face cleared, Altair decided to remember the reaction for later examination. Scheming did not best friends make, and he was leaning much heavier towards deepening this relationship if for nothing else than information. "However, quite a few powerful and famous people have come out of Slytherin, regardless of what Hagrid said. Also, there were quite a few followers of You-Know-Who's that came out of every house, not just Slytherin."

       Another moment of silence permeated the cabin, before it was broken by the sound of the trolley coming down the passage. Altair cancelled his privacy wards and waited for Matilda to reach their door. He had actually noticed two people earlier, a red-headed boy and a bushy-haired girl, searching for something. They hadn't noticed their cabin thanks to Altair's wards, and he was once again glad for all of the extra-curricular reading that he did. 

       The door to the compartment opened and Potter jumped again. Altair couldn't help the little smirk at that as it appeared that Potter had been too deep in though to notice anything going on around him. The little glare shot his way just made the smirk more pronounced.

       Potter was prevented from speaking by the trolley and Matilda, "Anything off the trolley, dears?" came a thin female voice. 

       Altair smiled politely and greeted, "Hello Ms. Matilda, how are you?"

       Matilda smiled brightly as she recognized Altair, "Well hello, Altair, I didn't see you there. I'm very well thank you, Brian finally got that finicky engine for the train looked at. I swear Dumbledore has blinders on for anything he isn't interested in... oh!"

       Potter was watching their interaction with a looked of shocked surprise. Matilda noticed the little boy sitting across from Altair and blushed in embarrasment. Before she could say anything, however, Altair jumped in, "Ms. Matilda, this is Harry Potter, Heir to the Ancient House of Potter. Heir Potter, this is Matilda Tormarsh, she has been working on the Hogwarts Express with her husband Brian Tormarsh, the conductor, for over fifty years."

       Both Potter and Matilda nodded to each other in greeting and Altair couldn't help the little snicker at their shocked expressions. He hadn't felt this free and light in a while, even considering the circumstances, he felt strangely comfortable and at ease. Matilda scolded him for a minute for his 'tickery' and both he and Potter quickly bought their snacks before bidding farewell and Altair put the wards back up. 

       The rest of the train ride consisted of Altair answering questions, laying out some laws and rules that were essential, and then they settled onto the topic of houses.


	4. Baby Ducklings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sorting doesn't go as everyone thought it would

       When the Hogwarts Express had reached Hogsmead station, Altair and his shadow had immediately disembarked and separated. The Potter heir had recognized Hagrid, calling for the first years in his normal bellowing way and had only hesitated momentarily before going in his direction. Knowing that he shouldn't seem anti-social, Altair had intercepted a group of his year mates from Ravenclaw and joined them in the carriages after a boy he was fairly friendly with had invited him. They had discussed summer and complained about the heat with no small amount of whinging until they had reached the school, and then trailed behind to see if he could spot a certain person. That was how he had pulled Fillius Flitwick, his Head of House, aside before he entered the hall to have a quick chat. He had greeted the diminutive professor and discussed the usual mentor/mentee system in the Ravenclaw house with him. Each first year was assigned a mentor from fourth year to help them acclimatize to the school. The reasoning of a fourth year is that it is a year before OWLs, but also that the students are more mature than second or third years. Altair had decided to give a very watered-down version of some of the issues that Potter had when he first met him, and explained that Harry himself had requested that they be paired if he ended up in Ravenclaw. Altair had gone on to tell Flitwick that the professor himself could ask Potter to be sure, but since they had already met and the boy claimed to be comfortable with him, he thought it best given his status and Altair's, that the match seemed the most logical.

       Professor Flitwick had nodded along and told him that he would discuss it with Potter before he assigned the pairs the next day. Flitwick had, however, asked Altair if he would still mentor Potter if he were in a different house. Altair had paused at that, and considered the question that his Head had proposed. The strange thing was... this was far more than anything Altair had done for anyone else before, without foisting the rest onto someone else. He usually just directed the student to someone 'more capable' of offering aid and left it at that. So when his Professor asked this, the reflexive answer in his head was 'no', but then he considered the reason behind saying 'yes' as he actually wanted to. Then a bunch of thoughts whizzed about in his head, 'it could be useful in the long run', 'there could be quite a bit of gain', 'a potential ally', and then the real reason popped into his head, or at least, the main reason: curiosity, and a strange determination to see Potter succeed. So he looked directly at his Head of House and replied, _"only if he wishes it."_

       The great hall was, as usual, a loud place to enter during the beginning of the year feast. Friends catching up with friends and housemates, boyfriend's and girlfriend's greeting each other with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm, fifth and seventh years looking nervous and harried about their OWLs and NEWTs, and of course students jabbering about their younger siblings possible house placement. When the heir of the House of Corvus finally found a seat, the noise had reached its peak and he could barely hear anyone above the many voices. The long, dark tables were filled with students wearing their usual robes and pointed hats, so the room looked rather bright in comparison. Torches and candles lit the cavernous space with the stars in the sky giving the hall it's normal, fantastical, appearance. The head table where all of the teachers sat, however, had a bit of a different energy from the previous years, and the reason was currently on a boat coming towards the school.

       Quite a few of the teachers were looking much more excited than they normally did (other than Professor Sprout and his own Head of House, of course, they were always excited for new students). The Headmaster was wearing his usual painful array of colors, but was looking strangely calm compared to his normal 'happy old man' persona, with an extra twinkle in his eye that made Altair uneasy. There was also a new face at the table and he and looked like he was about to jump out of his skin: anyone whom spotted the man would assume that he was yet another new professor taking up the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Professor Snape also looked a bit different from normal at these feasts, as he appeared to be in a much more foul mood than he normally was. Altair observed this quietly from his position at the Ravenclaw table and couldn't help but wonder.

       Potion's professor and student locked eyes for a moment before Altair nodded respectfully to the resident potions master and turned his attention back to his fellow housemates, though not before receiving the barest of head tilts back. Considering that he wasn't in Slytherin, Altair was actually on what one might call good terms with his potions professor. The main reason behind this is that even though he did not intend to pursue potions as a career, he took the class seriously and always treated the classroom, ingredients, and tools with respect. There wasn't really any deeper relationship, but Altair often had the feeling that Severus Snape was the type of person whom would genuinely help if he wanted to, and would also do so in a subtle way that invited the least amount of interference as possible.

       Back to the present, this was the first sorting other than his own, that Altair actually felt nervous about. The train ride had been a very interesting mix of alarming, awkward, informative, and fascinating. After everything had been discussed, Altair and his new little shadow had simply sat in silence and enjoyed the quiet.

       The noise in the hall suddenly dropped as the entrance doors to the Great Hall swung open and the Deputy Head, Professor McGonagall, strode confidently into the hall. Behind her like a line of ducklings, the first years followed in awed apprehension. Altair had always found it so amusing to see their faces light up like that whilst still being so anxious about what was going to happen. Altair himself had spoiled the surprise for himself a bit when he had found his father's journals from Antony's school years a before his letter had come. So although it was much different in person, the smaller version of himself had been much more subdued and underwhelmed.

       As the students came to a stop in front of the raised platform containing the teachers, the sorting hat burst into song, startling the first years and causing a few chuckles from the older students. Altair had actually explained how the sorting worked to Harry, so that he could think on his plans for a while, and then they had discussed which house he wanted to get into. They had both noted that someone *cough* Dumbledore *cough* seemed awfully keen to keep the famous Harry Potter _out_ of Slytherin and _in_ Gryffindor. Harry had opined that he had the feeling that he wouldn't really fit in with the Gryffindor's, especially given the descriptions and general makeup of the various Houses that Altair had described (he had sincerely tried to keep out any bias, and simply described what he saw and heard). They had both agreed that it was far safer for Potter to stay as far away from Slytherin as possible. Altair had reluctantly explained that the only reason that he himself wasn't in Slytherin was because of his cousin when asked. Harry had seemed to understand the sentiment far more than Altair had been comfortable with. 

       As Potter's name finally came up, Altair found himself watching very closely as the small boy did his best to stand straight like they had discussed and sat on the stool. Thankfully, the tiny boy didn't flinch after the hat had swallowed his head. Minutes began to drag by and Altair began to worry that the hat was disagreeing with his and Altair's choice.

       Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the sorting hat shouted: **"** **Ravenclaw!"**

Making sure to keep his relief firmly behind his occlumency sheilds, Altair very carefully watched the reactions of the teachers, even as he began to clap and snapped the students out of their dazed confusion. Most of the teachers looked as confused as some of the students, McGonagall looked slightly dissapointed, Dumbledore looked like a mix between worry and astonishment, Quirrell looked very confused, and Snape... well, Snape looked like he couldn't decide what to think as his eyes followed Potter's every move. 

       After the sorting ended, they heard the usual nonsense words from the Headmaster before they ate, and both himself and Potter made a few waves by pointing out that not only did no one know what really happened that night in Godric's Hollow, but also that the Potter Heir only wanted to focus on schoolwork. The last part really helped in quieting down all of the clamouring to speak with the famous boy, they were Ravenclaws after all, and if they could appreciate one thing, it was learning. The feast had finally ended, and Dumbledore stood one more time to make his normal speech. Altair was only really paying half of his attention to that, since he was very much used to the warnings about the forbidden forest (with a little extra for the Trouble Twins in Gryffindor), the objects forbidden by Filch, and then... Altair's head snapped up just in time to hear: "... And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."~

       ...That wasn't a good sign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Quoted from "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone"


	5. Quiet Rumination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slight time skip

       The first few weeks of classes went as usual, with the added stress for the fourth year 'claws having mentor-ship over tiny first years. There had been a few hiccups for Altair's new project, and the young man was starting to get anxious.

       First, the yearly physicals had come, and although Mentor's were the ones to take there Mentee's to the hospital wing, they had appointments one after the other, meaning that normally they didn't stay with one another. Altair had politely asked Harry to allow him to stay just in case. The kid looked like he had very much wanted to ask what 'just in case' meant, but the look on Altair's face had him staying his question. The medi-witch, Madam Pomfrey, had been very upset by both boys results and wrote down potion and diet regimens for both children before she had taken off after a stern, "Wait here boys." Atlair had made copies of their treatment plans and hidden them in his satchel under the curious and anxious eyes of his companion. When the Medi-Witch returned, she looked cloudy and dazed. Altair had caught Harry's look of disbelief when the woman whom had been ready to start a riot over their treatment had dumped the original treatment plans in the garbage can and shooed them out of the infirmary with an admonishment for loitering. The next half hour had been an uncomfortable explanation that this happened every year Altair had come to school and that he didn't actually know whom the witch had gone to see. He suspected, of course, but had absolutely no proof, and it appeared that Harry was also following the same line of reasoning given the looks he shot at Dumbledore during the lunch hour after the appointment. 

       Second, Altair was very confused to here how Professor Snape treated Harry during their first potions lesson. He and Snape had come to an odd sort of understanding during his years at Hogwarts. Altair had proven that his intent to actually learn potions was genuine and that he wasn't a show-off, and Snape normally left him alone due to his not acting like a moron around unstable and sometimes volatile substances. Therefore, even after Altair had prepped Harry on the proper safety and attitude to have during the notoriously grouchy teachers class, the man had gone and treated Harry like some sort of air-headed, attention seeking, brat. Although, after he had answered Snapes ridiculous questions and managed to make a passable potion, the darkly clothed professor seemed to back off slightly. Then, when Altair had made it plain as day that the boy was under his protection and tutelage, Snape seemed to hover, but not strike. That was very odd indeed.

       Third, Harry had made friends and acquaintances from every single house, which had earned him face time with Dumbledore (under the supervision of Professor Flitwick on Altair's advice), during which the diminutive Professor had been scandalized by Dumbledore's insinuations about Draco Malfoy and anyone who wasn't a member of the Gryffindor or Huffelpuff houses. It had been subtle, but both professor and student had understood what the Headmaster was implying, especially since he had recommended the acquaintance of two first years from Gryffindor. One of them was from the Trouble Twins family, and the other was a bushy haired girl that Altair ignored lest he get a headache.

        Fourth, and finally, they were having problems finding any sort of solution for Harry to leave his relatives without having to go through the Headmaster. Altair had, of course, looked for his own way out a long time ago, but all of his solutions worked within the sphere of Pureblood rules. Harry was different in that his notoriety and position meant that they had to get around both the Purebloods and Ministry's interference. That was what was causing Altair the most anxiety, as he hadn't realized before now the sheer amount of power Dumbledore wielded with almost no checks or balances. One would think that handing so many positions to one person wouldn't be done simply because of the sheer amount of time and effort that would need to be paid to each individual position, but apparently not.

       Altair was currently in one of the practice rooms available for older potions students with Harry, making their potions for the treatment plan he had swiped, as he tried, and failed, not to allow a strangely overwhelming sense of defeat swamp him.

       Altair spoke to Harry as he added some an ingredient to the nutrition potion, "This is a little tricky, as you need to keep stirring, but the ingredient needs to be as fresh as possible to keep it's potency. That's one of the reasons potioneer's need special licenses to make medical potions, they need a little extra training."

       Harry nodded and watched closely as he made notes on a piece of parchment, after all, he would need to make his own at some point. 

       "That is a very good explanation, although it does lack some of the finer points, Mr. Corvus," a smoothly dark voice spoke from the left. 

       It took a lot of willpower not to jump at his professor's sudden appearance. However, Altair felt quite a bit of panic as he knew exactly what the man was seeing in front of the two boys. Altair had kept an eye on Snape's schedule for the last two weeks so that he would know when and where he would be. The Corvus Heir had wanted to be very careful to pick times to brew when the potions master wouldn't be anywhere near the dungeons. As he watched in growing trepidation, even as he continued to work so as to not ruin his potion, Snape looked over the potion and workstation before his eyes landed on the treatment plans lying on the table next to a notebook summing up the amount of potions both boys needed. 

       Quickly moving to put his effort's under stasis, Altair snatched the papers up and shoved them into his satchel, looking anywhere but the Professor whom had been very rapidly moving in the moment he saw the papers. Really, Altair knew that the jig was up, but that lingering fear and anxiety over Dumbledore cutting of every avenue of escape made him want to grab Harry and run.

       Instead, he stood, back straight and looking at the worktable, Harry tucked behind his back, as the Professor seemed to loom over him and demand silkily, "Mr. Corvus, it would be easier for both of you if you hand over those papers this instant."


End file.
